A World Apart
by Summery-ice
Summary: For Hermione this was nothing more than a very bad turn of events. Ripped from her own war torn world and placed in another with out a single friend. 10th Walker story.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Not mine, just my imagination running away with fictitious characters that someone else created.**

**Chapter 1**

If someone was to ask Hermione, this was not how she pictured the end of the war. To be cold and alone.

She envisioned death and destruction, hoped for lights victory, and expected her body to not only take a severe beating, but to even perish in the battle entirely. Being a girl of logic, these expectations made sense, they were realistic. War was no time for fanciful thoughts and dreams filled glorious victories and happily ever afters. That is what Harry and Ron were for, Hermione was there to ensure their purpose was fulfilled.

However as cynical and bitter as those thoughts seemed to be, they weren't entirely true. It was what she tried telling herself to lessen the impact of loss, but nothing had prepared her for seeing her dear friend lifeless in Hagrid's arms. And it was in that moment that a faint realisation occurred to her- she had expected that they would live through it.

Everything from that point on was a blur, the screams of anguish, the shouts of denial, Hagrid's howling sobs, the cackling death-eaters and Voldemort's booming voice. Magic swelled in the air- that was the most vivd thing, it lay thick in the air, crackling with static as everyones emotions ran high and adrenalin raced on overdrive. Hermione remembered that she could feel it pulsing, seemingly angry that it was fuelled from from every direction. When she watched as Neville raised the Sword of Gryffindor over his head and swing it down on that wretched snakes head she felt as though the magic around them took a deep breath and held it- everything stood still and silent for what felt like a small eternity and then the power of the Horcrux screeched out its demise.

But that wasn't the only thing that lent its unearthly sound. The pent up magic finally exhaled and the unbearable screech pressed into Hermione's eardrums with such pressure that she was certain if it didn't desist they would explode, but it did stop and in its wake an even louder silence followed. Hermione didn't feel anything despite her vision swimming in and out of focus then like an apparition, nine shadowy figures descended on her. She remembered thinking they were dementors, but when their icy grip took hold of her she realised that it was something else entirely.

So with vision swimming and a growing uncomfortable pressure around her whole body Hermione's sense of hearing finally returned. People- her friends- around her were shouting and they sounded dismayed. The nails on a black board screeching started again and the pressure on her body built to an unbearable pain. She briefly had a moment to think that this was going to end badly when a crack sounded in her ears. The scream she released surprised even herself, it mingled with the shrieks from the shadow figures and then everything turned black.

When she gained consciousness again it was still dark as she lay on the grass, she remembered thinking for a brief moment that she might have passed out and dreamt the last half hour or so, but the deathly silence around her dispelled that notion. When she finally rose after many failed painful attempts the sight stunned her- nothing but endless, bare plains of grass with not a single sign of life. No Hogwarts, death eaters, students- nothing. For one of the few, very few times Hermione ever remembered, her mind brought up a blank.

She didn't know how long she stood there stumbling in a circle and taking in the unfamiliar land around her by the light of a full moon, on reflection she should have known something wasn't right as the moon wasn't full when consciousness left her, but in her dumbfounded state Hermione conceded that details like that were easily overlooked. What Hermione did blame herself for was her lack of vigilance, because as she was about to take a another useless lopsided turn to view the barren land, she completely missed the great hulking figures rushing her and it wasn't until she heard a grunt that she turned and caught a glimpse of the most hideous creature she ever had the misfortune of seeing. Her scream didn't even get past her lips before her world turned black again.

Now she had all the time in the world to think about everything or anything that she could have done better. The lone perch she was placed on was an effective prison, no escape was to be had. The black tower easily rivalled any sky scraper she had seen in its height, when she braved looking over the edge the multitude of activity looked like an angry ant hill that someone kicked over, even standing was a problem as it felt like one particularly strong gust of wind would have toppled her off the edge. The black stone that the tower was built from was as hard and smooth as onyx, and the trap door that was the only way inside was so perfectly cut that it was completely concealed when closed. Hermione tried prying it open once, but after searching for the near invisible edge she only managed to partially detach her finger nail from its nail bed and turned her already sour mood positively apoplectic.

It didn't help thinking about _how_ she ended up in this situation in the first place either, though Hermione knew she wouldn't have said anything different no matter how uncomfortable her current predicament left her, it didn't make it any less bleak. The rage that _that_ man inspired left her bereft of any of her widely acclaimed wit and intelligence. "The arrogance of the presumptuous _git_!" Hermione vented her inner thoughts aloud to nothing but air. Yet despite how angry and helpless it made her feel she couldn't help thinking about her first days here.

_"Where am I?' Hermione groaned when consciousness once again filtered into the darkness of her mind. Her head pounded mercilessly and it was only matched by the ache that encompassed her entire body. It hurt to breathe as air rasped down her scratchy dry throat and tried to expand her lungs only to be halted by a sharp pain that spread everywhere and forced the unwanted air out with a strangled cry. Yet her question was left unanswered, though it wasn't from a lack of company as someone pressed something to her dry lips and tilted some herbal concoction down her throat. She would have coughed from the sudden intrusion had it not been from the sheer agony of trying._

_"Be still," a man finally spoke, his voice sounded old and reminded Hermione painfully of the late headmaster Dumbledore. "The tonic will soon ease the pain." No sooner had he spoken those words that Hermione felt the effects of this ''tonic',_ _it swirled in her head and made her limbs feel light as feathers. Finally cracking an eye open Hermione was pleased that the light wasn't glaring as it could be during the day in the hospital wing, instead it must have been night time and the shadows from the candle light turned the white walls black. However Hermione wasn't of sound mind to take in the details as her vision swayed and blurred from the potent pain relief potion this man gave her followed silently by small sips of water that he helped her with._

_"Where am I?" She asked again with a small amount of embarrassment when she heard herself slur,head drooping and the outline of the man dressed in a light cloak further blurring out of sight as her eyes shut against her will. She couldn't make out his features other than his voluminous light cloak and what could perhaps be a long white beard and hair to match. The resemblance once again pulled on the painful memories of her headmaster, but she was too far gone to dwell on them._

_"You are in Isengard." Her question finally got answered only to spawn more, but Hermione just assumed she must be in some sort of safe house and was being looked after by an Order member that was unknown to her. There were far more pressing issues to address and when they finally popped into Hermione's head they jumbled themselves from the drug induced haze._

_"What happened?" she asked sluggishly, her tongue felt thick and she wondered how this man could understand her garbled speech. But that thought was instantly replaced with her last waking moments and she couldn't help gasping out the first and most vivid image that burned into her memory "Harry!" It was a half cry and pathetic whimper as she tried to get enough air to talk. "Dead- he's dead! What happened to Ron?" She asked as tears leaked out._

_"They are all dead to you."_

_At hearing that, something she never thought was possible, all ability to speak left her. Instead of the gut wrenching sob that wanted to wrack her entire being only a feeble moan escaped her lips that sounded like a slowly dying animal, her body too weak and painful to do otherwise. The word 'dead' just reverberated through her head as faces of loved ones spun and flashed around and around in all manner of grotesque forms of tortured frozen expressions in their death. And Harry, the only one she witnessed, limp and lifeless as he dangled from Hagrid's arms- her friend, her brother- dead._

_"Who are you?" She whined unable to reign in her turmoil. "Why have you brought me here?" _'Why didn't you leave me to die with them'-_ she didn't voice that out loud, knowing that deep down she should be horrified._

_"I am Saruman the White, Chief of the Maiar Order and Head of the White Council." Despite the deep soothing baritone of the mans voice, what he said made little sense to Hermione and had she been in even some of her normal frame of mind, warning bells would have sounded, but her despair took all of her attention. "Now drink this, you will be useless in your current state." It was the same potion he gave her earlier and Hermione gladly downed it in hopes to wipe her mind of any more painful thoughts._

_The days that followed were a never ending cycle of sleeping and drowsy wakefulness. Her body was healing, while not as quickly as it would have done under a skilled healer, it was quicker than any muggle could achieve. Hermione only saw this man named Saruman occasionally and it was only to talk. The rest of the time a rather unfortunate looking man saw to her, with stringy greasy black hair that was peppered with grey, the palest skin she had ever seen on a human and even paler watery eyes. He made Hermione feel uneasy, if nothing else the very air around him seemed several degrees cooler and the evasive way he walked- or more accurately scuttled or stalked- but he always watched her too, unabashed and unwavering sometimes he just stood and stared well past what could be considered awkward. _

_He didn't endear himself to her either when the first two days she was forced to allow him to feed her when Hermione's arms shook uncontrollably from everything that had happened and the lack of food. She pointedly refused his 'help' when he brought a basin for her to freshen up, even though she still wore the same blood caked clothes from _that_ day and could do nothing more than give herself a meagre bird bath. Despite all these things however, it was his name that made Hermione's skin crawl unpleasantly- Wormtongue- the resemblance between him and that revolting rat known as Wormtail were immeasurable, the worst of all was the fervid devotion to someone who was clearly more powerful. It was therefore with a small sense of relief when Saruman informed her that Wormtongue had left to go back to Edoras. _

_This lent to Hermione tacking her worry onto another matter that was bothering her and it left her with a growing sense of foreboding that had the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. During the infrequent talks she had with Saruman he always dropped names of places that Hermione never in life heard of- Edoras, Isengard and Fangorn Forest were just a few she remembered. She also picked up on things like the Valar and elves that didn't sound anything like the house elves she was used to. It sounded completely out of this planet and made a trickle of fear bleed into her confusion._

_It was on one such day, maybe a week into her stay in the building she learned was the Orthanc Tower- a tower that was always dark on the inside as light tried and failed to filter in through the narrow windows to illuminate the jet black stone- that Saruman aided Hermione to walk slowly to a different room and sit in a chair. It felt good to move despite the ongoing ache she still experienced and almost had her forget about the grime she was still caked in. He offered her a lightly scented drink and then proceeded to study her. She questioned him about the places she remembered him mention and he freely answered her questions._

_"How is it that I have never heard of any of these places or people?" She asked with trepidation. She had never heard of Gondorian's or Dunlending's, they were apparently races of people from what she gathered and therefore had to ask him the most obvious question no matter how much her intuition told her she didn't want to know._

_"I would imagine it is because you never have." He replied with an amused smile playing around his aged lips as he watched her frown. Behind the frown Hermione's mind groaned into gear as its cogs slowly started turning back to life after a week of a drug infused stupor. Phrases started jumping out at her that she previously put down to an old mans rambling- he said they were all dead to her, not that they were dead, and he brought her here. How? Where was 'here' precisely, but he had answered that too._

_Middle Earth_

_Hermione's studies started whirling through her head, ancient runes, arithmancy and obscure facts on travelling through time. She remembered reading about theories that combined runes and arithmancy to form gateways between alternate universes and separate plains of existence- she also remembered reading said theories with endless amounts of derision which was fuelled by the authors own 'should such realities even exist' footnote. Such concepts were as preposterous to wizards as time travel was to muggles- a nice fanciful idea, but nothing more._

_"What have you done?" Hermione asked with mounting trepidation, even her own magic was was stirring with warning as she felt her skin prickle- she didn't need to read a book to know that it was telling her to be careful, especially when the old man in front of her was beginning to look far more sinister than one would expect for someone of his age._

_"We are in need of some- assistance." He spoke carefully, clearly measuring his words. It only made Hermione dread what was coming even more, he did not come across as someone who would ask for assistance. _

_"Then why am I here?" Hermione asked, noting the irritation that briefly flashed across his face before he skilfully masked it again._

_"I have studied your kind for some time now you see, and after many years a way to bring you here was found." He answered slowly, watching her. When Hermione didn't reply he continued with that same irritation she saw earlier. "Our greatest sorcerer has been- incarcerated most cruelly by those whom wish to rob him of his power. The lands have been turning to decay and whispers of a rebellion have been heard. Though you are hardly what I expected," he grimaced, "I should like to imagine you could understand the usefulness of powers combined when facing the enemy."_

_"What do you mean by 'your kind'?" Hermione asked as she felt her own magic wrap itself around her like a blanket, its warning clear as any bell. He wasn't to be trusted, his voice was too hypnotic and when she denied knowing of what he spoke she felt a malevolent oppression that could only be coming from him- it felt too much like Voldemort's presence._

_"You have powers gifted to you by the Valar," he responded with much less control of his irritation. It only solidified Hermione's resolve to lie about her powers and her own magic warmed and comforted her for the decision and against the growing malice of his power. _

_"I don't know what you're talking about." Hermione responded with out hesitation, she didn't voice her fear that this 'sorcerer' sounded more like a dark lord, it would only catch her out on the lie._

_"Do not try my patience witch." He replied after a long pause. Hermione felt her right arm heat up where her wand was holstered, invisible to all, readying itself for use. It happened the moment she felt a current of magic, not her own, pass through her that felt like an electrical bolt, yet the man, or maybe more appropriately wizard, hadn't moved at all._

_"I'm not a witch!" Hermione gasped out in surprise, fear beginning to course through her as the similarities between now and when she was in Malfoy Manor became a frightening reality. However she had lied then and survived with her sanity intact, she now resolved to do the same here. Despite the fear and pain it would no doubt induce to refuse, she did not want to be a willing participant or a puppet to a dark side when she fought so hard against it her whole life- it wasn't easy, but it was the right thing to do and if she suffered for it then at least she would do so with a clear conscious._

_"You lie girl." He responded with frightening control, his own power tangibly growing in the air around Hermione. "And I do not have time for a females hysterics- let us see how long you will lie for."_

_And then the power engulfed her. Hermione's own sentient magic was no match for his forcefully directed attack and she crumpled to the ground from it with a scream. The invisible force bubbled through her veins and seemed to seize the very blood running through it, freezing her limbs to an unbearable point before heating up rapidly to make that blood race at an impossible speed and making her feel like she was in an inferno. And then it stopped, leaving her gasping on the ground with no visible sign of trauma._

_"I don't know what you mean, honestly!" Hermione screamed from her new feeble position on the floor, taking the small measure of comfort that her magic provided as it strengthened her resolve not to materialise her wand and escape. And as expected it was the wrong answer to give as that same surge of power rushed through her body._

_"I see you will not defend yourself you foolish child." Saruman said after what felt like an eternity of torture to Hermione. She was left panting miserably on the floor barely able to make out what he said. "Perhaps a little time alone will sway you to our cause." Hermione barely had any time to process what he said when she was lifted unceremoniously from the ground by two pairs of hands, one under each arm. When she was upright she focused on the wizard in white and his previously benign face contorted with an evil grin. _

_"You know what to do." He said and walked away. Hermione didn't even have time to panic about what that could possibly mean because before it could set in she turned to look at one of her captors and screamed in terrified shock. Whatever it was- and yes Hermione was confident it was an 'it'- was the most grotesque thing she had seen since the night on the empty field. It brought to mind images of the inferi that Harry once described to her and Ron. The skin seemed to be rotten and its features deformed and Hermione had to reign in her magic from exploding out of her from the emotional upheaval. The two things just grunted out what could be assumed as a laugh and hauled her away._

Unfortunately that wasn't the last time Hermione saw them. Over the days that she was kept exposed to the elements on top of the tower they were her most frequent company, fortunately for Hermione they only ever bought her food and drink and most didn't seem to talk, and the ones that did never said much.

This had left Hermione an ability to reflect on her current situation. The most common thought that filtered through her mind was the increased power of her magic, while she had always been conscious of it thrumming through her veins and felt it ebb and flow with her emotions, here- here being this Middle Earth she had no knowledge of- it felt almost primal, it reacted to not only her emotions, but the environment in general. It warmed her when she felt cold, cushioned the rock she was forced to huddle on and even cooled her down in the heat of the day. It by no means left her comfortable, but it did ease the discomfort.

The daily talks with Saruman weren't going any better either. He would appear on top of the tower every day and give Hermione the option to aid him in a venture he refused to give any details of, and every day Hermione refused with the same lie. It burned her to know she had the ability to at least attempt to defend herself- her magic riling at her refusal to utilise its indignant energy. She was always left curled in on herself when he was done, wanting to cry from pain, but a sick twisted thought that this had nothing on Bellatrix left her feeling disturbingly amused.

_Thump_

The noise snapped Hermione out of her musings as she looked around wondering where the noise could possibly come from. It was followed by several more before something burst through the invisible trap door and landed in a heap on the smooth black surface. The trap door shut itself with barely a whisper of expired air. Hermione was reeling from shock, she didn't even have time to gasp out a surprise, instead she studied the lump wondering if it was some new torture concocted for her. It took her a few moments to realise that it was a human being that was probably hurt before she moved.

"Are you ok?" She whispered from a distance, cautious about getting too close. Thinking the person unconscious, Hermione crawled closer wanting to see if they were hurt. So it was a surprise when he grunted and made Hermione hurtle back with a shout.

"Hmm, I will be." The lump grumbled revealing to Hermione that he was an old man, just like Saruman- _just like Dumbledore._ He seemed to gather himself up slowly and finally turned towards Hermione, who had scrambled to the opposite side of the tower top. His face was blood stained and Hermione was amazed that for his age he was able to move at all in his state, but there was something about him, she could feel his power surround him much like her own did. He was a wizard like Saruman, but she didn't sense the same malevolent quality to the magic like his, this however did not ease her trepidation of him- he was powerful, and she didn't know him at all.

"So it is true." Hermione heard him mutter from the opposite side of the tower. His gaze on her was unwavering and she didn't have any delusions about what he was speaking of. "How long has he kept you up here?"

"A week, maybe." Hermione replied, not taking her eyes off the old man.

"I see." He nodded, and Hermione refused to read into his compassionate eyes, the last old codger she met imprisoned her. "He isn't happy with you, it seems you have disrupted his plans."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked sharply wondering if it was amusement that she picked up in his tone, hating not knowing what was happening and only receiving scraps of information.

"It would appear you are not what he expected, and even more surprising that you have refused." He replied, this time there was no mistaking his amusement.

"I'm glad this is such a big laugh to you!" Hermione retorted, fed up with his riddles. Some part of her was mortified that she would speak to an elder in such a manner, but being held captive on a tower exposed to the elements for a week has left her with little to no patience, so with even more petulance she asked- "Who are you and what are you doing here anyway."

"I imagine I am here for the same reason you are child," he replied with an audible chortle and shocked Hermione, did this mean he was a prisoner too?

"And I go by many names, but you may call me Gandalf."

**A/N:** I'm probably digging my own fanfic grave here, still working on two other stories, but my mind won't let me rest. A warning: some updates may be a long wait, it all depends on my muse and attention span which is frivolous. On that note, let me know what you think, this is my take on a '10th Walker' over done I know, but I have only found a handful that I can stomach. So let me know what you think, constructive criticism more than welcome.

Please review =D


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm disclaiming these characters as mine…I'm just using them for my fangirl purposes.

**A/N:** Melancholy ahead, and perhaps some issues are touched upon that are sensitive, see the A/N below. And apologies for any mistakes.

Previous Chapter

_"I'm glad this is such a big laugh to you!" Hermione retorted, fed up with his riddles. Some part of her was mortified that she would speak to an elder in such a manner, but being held captive on a tower exposed to the elements for a week has left her with little to no patience, so with even more petulance she asked- "Who are you and what are you doing here anyway."_

_"I imagine I am here for the same reason you are child," he replied with an audible chortle and shocked Hermione, did this mean he was a prisoner too? _

_"And I go by many names, but you may call me Gandalf."_

**Chapter 2**

"When I tell you, you need to jump." Hermione cracked an eye open when the grey wizards voice travelled to her from across the tower and looked at him owlishly. She hadn't been sleeping, all she did was shut her eyes and tried to pretend that the cold hard rock she sat and lent against wasn't nearly as cold or hard- she was failing miserably.

"Excuse me?" She asked shocked. "Either I have been struck stupid or you have actually suggested to jump off this infernal tower." The laugh that emitted from her was bitter and humourless and ended almost instantly, it turned her tone into a condescending coolness that in another life would have appalled her. "I'm desperate and hopeless, not suicidal."

"There is no time to explain." He replied with a hint of desperation that Hermione had yet to hear from him. "You must trust me, on my command you need to jump if you have any hope of getting out of Saruman's grasp."

"And whose grasp shall I fall into then? Deaths or yours?" Hermione asked.

"You must believe me that I do not wish to force you to do anything." Gandalf's desperation was far more pronounced now, and Hermione noticed he looked as though he wanted to reach out to her, but thought better of it.

"I have no reason to trust you." Hermione whispered, all anger vanishing and leaving her utterly drained. She turned away from him and gazed out at the endless expanse of the land as it faded into the night. The only light that was now present was an angry orange glow from below that was created by orcs- a name supplied by Gandalf for the hideous beasts that dragged her up here. To be fair to the old captive wizard, he had been straight forward when she questioned him and left Hermione alone when she was unwilling to speak- at times like that he often paced the small distance muttering to himself. He also tried to help in any way that was afforded to him, Hermione had watched motionless as he used his own weakened power to pry the trapdoor open that left the air around them in almost visible pulses of energy, and when he distracted Saruman's attention from her. In the endless quiet moments he supplied names of things to pass the time, described elves and warned her against Saruman- a wizard turned dark unknowingly under the noses of the White Council, something that was apparently not supposed to happen in Middle Earth. It only made Hermione's dismay that much more complete.

A wolf howling below from the ember glow made Hermione shut her eyes against the moon lit sky as images of the werewolves that were so beast like in their war that they retained their canine mentality in their human form- their howling war cry before they charged at students that were far too young to be in a battle, the blood that flew in a gruesome spray, the desperate screams of pain. Her hand bunched the loosening material of her jeans tightly, trying to erase the unearthly sound of dying children, it trembled mercilessly and spread to wrack her whole aching body.

"You must- Argh!"

Hermione's eyes instantly snapped to the captured wizard as the sound of choked pain was unmistakable. She was surprised to find Saruman standing there, glancing between his two prisoners with what could only be sadistic glee. Hermione hadn't heard him enter and felt a reluctant relief when tonight he turned his attention to the other captive- she hated herself for this selfishness, but still she turned her head the other way and tried to ignore their conversation that was a nightly ritual. The same insistent declarations of greatness, the same offers of shared power were heard despite Hermione's efforts, and when she heard another gasp of pain she couldn't help looking.

"No!" She shouted and was trying to scramble across the black rock before her mind even processed why. Saruman had Gandalf suspended over the edge with what she assumed was magic. In that moment she knew she couldn't be left here alone despite her distrust of her fellow prisoner, and it was this desperation that propelled her forward. A familiar spasm of pain stopped her before she even made it halfway across the short expanse, and she didn't need to look up to see that she had successfully diverted the attention to herself. Despite the pain that was flowing through her nerves a sense of relief washed over Hermione when she saw Gandalf in a crumpled heap on the solid surface.

"And to think, you won't even use your powers to save someone." Saruman said with a cruel and satisfied smirk, the rolling agony increasing with out even the decency of having his staff pointed her.

"I don't know what you mean." Moaned out as she curled in on herself unable to prevent groaning in pain. Her wand itched and burned on her forearm to be used, it was a blow to her pride not to use it. When she was in the manor she didn't have this luxury, and here she was armed and pretending to be helpless- she had to keep telling herself why she was doing it, Hermione was not going to be used, not with out a fight she could be proud of.

"Pathetic." The white wizard spat, and released Hermione from his torturous hold, but not before one last increased squeeze of pain that left her breathless for a few long, suspended seconds. His attention turned back to Gandalf, he was saying something to him, but Hermione couldn't hear over the pounding rush of blood in her ears, instead she concentrated on getting back to her previous perch. She crawled with muscles shaking uncontrollably like a newborn foal, pathetic was a very accurate description of her, Hermione had never felt this pathetic in all eighteen years of her life. Once she finally got as far as the small area allowed, Hermione's weak arms gave out and she landed heavily on the hard surface. The cool black rock was a small measure of comfort to her overheated blood, even if her skin was ice cold and drenched in a cold and clammy sweat.

All Hermione wanted to do in that moment was just to let the darkness of unconsciousness consume her, and she focused on her breathing trying to ease the shock her body was falling into as muscles twitched and spasmed from the cruel treatment. She was not paying attention to the world around her, so when a voice that carried on the air reached her it made no sense as it was hard to hear over her chattering teeth. Slowly she turned her head to the direction of the two wizards, through steadily blurring eyes the only difference that Hermione could see was that the grey wizard looked worse for wear. She shut her eyes, hoping her mind would take her away from everything, and once again the voice reached her- she realised that she only heard it because it was louder than the previous conversation between the men, it was louder and directed to her.

"Now!" It was _that_ command. A command from a wizard she barely knew that was asking her to plummet to her death from a tower that promised it would not be a short trip.

"You must- Now!" Gandalf's cry was louder still and strained from obvious desperation. Hermione stared at the two wizards, Gandalf finally showing some emotion from his usual stoic demeanour as he almost imperceptibly slid backwards toward the edge. She could tell that this movement was only missed by Saruman because his attention was once again focused on her, excitement almost palpable from a distance that it left little doubt in Hermione's mind what the cause for it was- he thought she was about to finally crack and show him her power, it was the only thing that she could think would cause that reaction from him.

"Please child, now!"

A sudden calm settled over Hermione as she focused on the grey wizard as he pleaded with her. All sound seemed to cease to exist, her vision cleared and breathing slowed to a steady and measured pace as she listened to the only thing she could hear- her heart was pounding, but it too calmed to a slower even beat. She wasn't thinking when her hand inched toward the edge, not a single thought passed through her mind as her arm pulled her body to join her hand. Everything seemed to slow down to a snail crawl, almost like slow motion, and just as Hermione felt the first grasp of gravity, a thought finally entered her mind.

Maybe it was the best solution, maybe this was the only solution.

Time sped up frighteningly then. Her body was entirely gripped by the force of gravity as she rolled off the edge, her cry choked off by the air that rushed at her with an unrelenting pressure. What felt like a small life time, Hermione came to a sudden stop- much sooner than she thought she aught to, and far less painful- or that she even felt anything at all was a surprise as a feathery landing snapped Hermione's tightly clenched eyes open, she was floating. A cry of rage that was fast fading could be heard behind her, but she didn't turn around. Instead she flung aside the stupid notion that she was a floating ghost which her scrambled mind produced, and realised that she was not in fact floating, but flying- flying atop a freakishly large bird from what she could see.

"You are safe child." Gandalf appeared next to her on his own huge bird. From this angle Hermione could distinctly see that the bird was an eagle and also just how large they actually were, had she been a muggle Hermione was certain she'd fall into a dead faint, however experiences with Fluffy, Buckbeak and an invisible Tenebrus and his herd had prepared her for the highly unusual.

"I have never asked your name my dear." The wizard asked as air flowed around them. The eagles flight was smooth and soothing and was lulling Hermione's exhausted mind and body into a sleepy haze.

"Hermione Granger." She replied after a moments pause thinking if she trusted this man enough to jump to her death he could at least know who she was was, she didn't really like being called a child and girl all the time.

"You should rest child," Hermione nearly snorted. "Gwaihir will not let you fall and it will be a while before you reach Rivendell."

As if that was her cue, Hermione's mind left the waking world before her exhausted body slumped forward into her flying feathery bed.

._._._.

"We need to wake her, she can't be healed if we can't even touch her."

"What is stopping us? When she was found at the borders she was carried in here with no problem."

"Saruman suspected she harboured a power, it appears he was correct and this marks her as far stronger than she looks."

"It has been weeks Gandalf, she has looked on the verge of passing since she entered this land and yet she lives from what I can tell. What did Saruman do to her? And how has she sustained life this long?"

"He- was less than accommodating. And Hermione denied everything, regardless what he did. As for her lingering life, I cannot answer it for I know only what she told Saruman."

Hermione recognised the moment she became conscious, when her dream laden mind started feeling her body lying on a very soft and comfortable bed, and the dreams began fading into nothingness already forgotten by the dreamer. It was her name that got her attention from the slow waking process and she realised she had been listening in unconsciously for a while. It briefly occurred to her, based on what she overheard, that everything that happened to her was not a dream. She wasn't on her beloved Hogwarts grounds after a raging battle and that a wizard named Saruman actually existed.

"She looks like she has been flayed to with in an inch of her life." Hermione was slightly startled, who this new person was happened to be the first female she encountered since she showed up in Middle Earth, and by her calculation, assuming this land measured the passage of time similarly, that had to be over a month- she had seen two full moons in this here already. Whether or not it was because of this absence of female company, but Hermione could swear it was one of the most loveliest voices she had ever heard. It flowed almost like a soft melody, and the compassion behind it was overwhelming.

Hermione could tell there were several people in the room, and they were clearly discussing her. She was just about to make her woken state obvious when the people started speaking in a language she had no recollection of ever hearing. Just like that females voice, the language itself flowed like music created by an expert composer. So soft and beautiful it was, that after a few moments Hermione was most willing to slip back into a dream land filled with this sweet speech.

"Open your eyes, _ai er_." Hermione was startled by the sudden change of language into doing as requested.

It was a terrible mistake.

The light, which was filtering into the room with the brightness of the morning sun, burned straight into her retinas. Before Hermione could take one peek at her audience, her eyes clamped shut to block out the bright intrusion, but not before it left flashing spots skipping around behind her eyelids. This set off a chain reaction of pain, the imprints of light flashed in time with a murderously pounding headache, and to help block out the light further, Hermione had turned bodily into the equally soft pillow which ignited her dormant agony of overused muscles that were not cooled down properly before being left stagnant with disuse. Her untreated injures protested vehemently for her daring to move and made her moan pitifully in a voice that was dry and scratchy- it did not help that her mouth felt like something died in there and turned to a putrid dust from age.

"You should not move Miss Granger." Hermione recognised Gandalf's voice instantly, and took absolutely no heed. With the momentum she created to get away from the light, Hermione let her legs slip over the edge of the bed till she felt the floor beneath them and let their pull bring up her torso to sit up. The blurry room spun around mercilessly through the slits in her eye lids as her eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness. The people behind her were saying something, but Hermione did not pay attention, she only focused on getting her sight back and blood back into her limbs.

She stank. That was the primary thought that filtered into her mind as she sat motionless. She read once when she was young that people can't smell their own odour, but Hermione could not only smell it, she could almost taste its repugnance and it brought to mind that night in the late Bathilda Bagshot's home- the smell of rotted flesh and the flies that buzzed around angrily. It came as a shock when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"What are doing!" Hermione startled bodily, her voice nothing more than a scratchy whisper. Who ever dared touch her instantly removed their hand, so Hermione didn't bother turning to see who it was. Quiet descend on the room after that and for the first time Hermione noticed the almost imperceptible hum in her ears. It made her head feel like it was stuffed with cotton that made it feel pleasantly numb, so it was with a sense of disassociation that she glanced down at her self.

"Where can I get cleaned up?" She asked, her voice sounding distant in her own ears. Hermione just sat and stared at her dirt caked hands and wondered when was the last time she washed, only to recall the stench emitting from her and surmised it had been a very long time. Lost in her musings Hermione barely recalled hearing a reply though she recognised the beautiful voice of that woman. "I don't need help, I wish to clean up alone." She unconsciously replied.

"There is a bath drawn up just ahead of you through that door." The woman replied after a lengthy and awkward pause. With barely a whispered thank you Hermione stood up after a couple of tries and stumbled to the door she was directed to. Half way there a panic gripped her as she thought of something and scolded herself for not thinking of it the moment she woke up in a room full of strangers. She hurriedly patted her right forearm and then her hip and sighed with relief when she felt her holstered wand and beaded bag, both still thankfully concealed.

There was a man asking Hermione something as she made it to the door, but propriety aside, all Hermione could do was turn and shut the door firmly on the people that she briefly glimpsed before the door blocked them out. It occurred to her at that moment that this was the first time she had been alone since the day that found her on the fields in Middle Earth- and there was a body of water waiting to wash away the dirt and smell.

Quicker than she thought her body would allow, Hermione was tearing off her clothes, wincing and gasping when caked on blood or dirt pulled painfully on her skin. Next she summoned her wand into her hand, she didn't think about it when its reaction was slower than normal, but it floored her when she tried set fire to her clothes only to leave a smoking pile. The tremble she noticed in her arm was her only outward reaction, inside she shut down the possibility that her magic finally failed.

"It's just exhausted." She said out loud hoping that voicing it made it true, there had to be a reason she was alive and logically it drained her magic- that had to be the reason. She then realised she wouldn't be able to summon a Pepper Up potion from her bag with out it, nor would she be able to magically clean the worst of the grime before bathing, so she resigned herself to weakly clean herself up with out magical help, it would after all not be the worst thing to endure. As she jumped into the surprisingly large tub she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror right next to the bath. The only reason Hermione knew she was seeing herself was because the reflection moved as she did- because it certainly looked nothing like she remembered herself.

Her hair was a matted brown grey colour that hung in greasy mud and blood caked dreads, her face was gaunt and drawn from a year of poor nutrition and the skin was so dirty she couldn't even tell what colour it was. Braving her own analysis Hermione stood in tub, black rivulets of dirty water ran down the previously covered skin that was saved from most of the dirt. Her ribs were jutting out more than the last time she looked properly and faint scars she had no knowledge of were just visible- she frowned as she looked at them, but then she realised she had no open wounds. She was healed, poorly, but healed none the less and thanked whatever deity was listening that her magic was so reactive in this strange country.

She turned away and sat back down in the water disgusted and started working on something she could fix. Submerging her head under the water Hermione dug her fingers viscously to her scalp and scrubbed, the feel of her hair just made her scrub harder until she couldn't hold her breath any longer. When she resurfaced she reluctantly glanced at the mirror and the only difference she saw was that she now looked like The Thing that climbed out of the swamp, and the water she was sitting in turned from a fresh cleanliness to a murky brown that she would have hesitated to put a toe in. She tried the same scrubbing again several times and on the last repetition, when she resurfaced, she had a visitor.

"Let me help Hermione." The beautiful voice filled the room in the same musical note she heard before, oddly it did not startle her too much, not that the woman's presence was welcomed.

"I don't want any help." Hermione exclaimed, noting the slight hysterical edge to her voice as she tried to rub the dirty water from her eyes. Blinded by the grit that continued to trickle into her eyes the soft feel of a towel in her hands startled Hermione for a moment before the realised what it was and accepted it with out further argument.

"Sometimes we may not want help, but we do need it." And for the first time Hermione got a good look at this woman with the voice, and the voice was only a prelude to her looks. She instantly recognised her as an Elf, while the ears would have been a dead giveaway, it was the otherworldly presence that she portrayed that Hermione recognised first. "My name is Arwen and I beg that you let me help you now that you need it most."

Whether it was the shock of seeing someone like Arwen, her growing hysteria, or just exhaustion, Hermione found herself nodding in assent and stepping out of the putrid water when instructed to. She was completely unconcerned about her lack of attire as that numbness she felt earlier started invading her mind again. Hermione placidly stood in the corner of the room that she was ushered to with an overly large white robe that was draped over her by Arwen, hiding her from view- her protests about getting it dirty being waved away- as several elves worked quickly to remove the dirty tub and replace it with two more filled with hot clean water before leaving only Hermione and Arwen in the room again.

When she stepped into the water this time it was with Arwen's help, and it was the Elf that started cleaning her hair with something that made the dirt truly run from it. And Hermione sat there motionless and let Arwen wash her body clean, biting her lip to stop a slight tremble she made every effort to ignore as she listened to her companion sing as she worked in that language she never heard.

._._._.

**A/N:** I am thrilled with the positive response I received for the first chapter, makes me slightly apprehensive that people will be disappointed with how this story will evolve, but I can only write what my imagination cooks up, and would love to take you all on the wild ride. Regarding the sensitive issues, I in no way want to make light of any mental health disorder that people may suffer as a result of traumatic experiences. I cannot write or speak from experience, but only how I imagine someone could react to it. I mean no offence to anyone with what I write. Also what I would like to give readers is a solemn promise on a few aspects of this fic…

-Hermione will NOT be a Mary-Sue- she won't be an expert swordsman, horse rider or archer, her strength is magic and her parents have not conveniently sent her to classes such as archery.

-Hermione will NOT glorify mental health issues- I take issue with the way some people write about characters cutting/starving/hurting themselves as though its a 'cool' thing to do. You will not see that here, I want to portray growth of character.

-There will not be a love at first sight, there will be no fluffiness.

That's all I can think of for now. Also several people have asked if and what the romantic pairing will be, I'm not sure as I haven't decided…I may be swayed though, but don't expect a vote, and don't expect anything soon- just no Aragorn/Hermione, sorry to fans of that ship, but he belongs with Arwen in my opinion. Plus a fair warning to readers who have a problem with this, I will be writing this fic from both movie and book verses.

Thank you to all who have read and enjoyed, and a very special thank you to the following readers who have left their thoughts, and wonderful opinions in a review, your reviews made me very happy!

**cosmoGirl666**

**mh21**

**oceanluvr**

**Wildelven Pathfinder**

**Silent**

**la hegemon**

**sullikat**

**Nicxy**

**royan25**

**angel897**

**gemini-rose16**

**CloneGirl 897**

Thank you again everyone, and please review. Constructive criticism very welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:** If any of this belonged to me…well it doesn't.

**Chapter 3**

The bed was so comfortable it was almost sinful. After a year of living in a tent with a camp bed that no amount of magic could smooth the lumps and bumps out of, to be able to just lay on a bed that seemed to be made of fluffy clouds was a luxury Hermione never realised how much she missed. At least that is what Hermione was telling herself was the reason, she missed the comfort and that it soothed her weary body. Deep down however she knew it was not normal to be in bed this much, she knew the lethargy that made her limbs feel like lead when nature forced her to move had nothing to do with with her physical body, but it was also something Hermione did not want to examine too closely- this bed was just too damn comfortable.

The numbness that invaded her senses on the first day she woke in this Elven city was making it very convenient and easy to deal with her very inconvenient and difficult situation. After being washed that day and dressed in what was perhaps the finest material she had ever witnessed- let alone worn to bed- Hermione had been introduced to Lord Elrond. Just like his daughter, he held some unnamable presence- youth, age, wisdom, beauty and something else entirely all rolled into one. On arrival he had dismissed everyone that was in the room save Arwen and then studied her. Hermione managed to hold his gaze for only a short period of time before the weight of it had her averting her gaze to the floor, it was too deep and knowledgable.

Arwen had then explained that her father was their greatest healer, and though Hermione was reluctant, she allowed him to examine her. Her discomfort had been total, but Arwen was present the whole time and preserved Hermione's modesty with perfected efficiency, so it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as the time Professor Snape had to examine the cursed wound she sustained from the Department of Mysteries- for weeks Hermione was unable to so much as think of looking in the dour mans direction without the heavy feeling of mortification bubbling in her stomach.

No injury had been left unexamined that day, Lord Elrond poked and prodded at Hermione with an enviable precision, bound several fractured bones and put tingling salves on some of her poorly healed scars. During his ministrations and Arwen's unwavering support Hermione allowed a brief hope to trickle in through the buzzing numbness that maybe he would be able to heal _that_ scar, but as though he were a master Legilimens he shot down that tiny sprig of hope.

_"Someone did this to you and it wasn't with your consent." Lord Elrond's calm tone didn't change, and it wasn't a question as his gaze stayed focused on _that _scar only briefly flicking towards his daughter, his fingertips gingerly tracing every jagged letter. Hermione didn't miss the look that the two Elves shared- worry and pity- not something she was grateful for so she glanced down to her left forearm, something she didn't do often._

_"What does it mean?" Arwen asked with a squeeze on Hermione's shoulder as the two of them just watched Lord Elrond's elegant fingers continue to follow the path of the wound._

_"Nothing flattering." Hermione replied with out much emotion, at least she liked to think she successfully suppressed the rage and humiliation the physical mark on her skin inspired. The scar was just as unflattering as its meaning, Bellatrix Lestrange had taken great pleasure in digging that small blade as far as flesh and bone allowed before slowly dragging it down to form the first unsightly, jagged line of a large 'M'. Even then, lying immobilised on that extravagant marbled floor of Malfoy Manor, Hermione knew after that first painful stroke what would happen-_

_MUDBLOOD_

_"I cannot heal this, it is a wonder you have any use of your hand at all." Lord Elrond said at length with the first sign of emotion from him, he sounded disappointed and saddened._

_"It wasn't supposed to be healed, not entirely." Hermione answered, slightly deflated and angry with herself for letting herself hope it could disappear, or at least be faded a little. When she looked up to the regal Elven Lord, his mouth was turned down and a frown marred his features as he once again studied her- he probably knew exactly what she was thinking._

"Good morning Lady Granger." Arwen's beautiful voice filled the previously quiet room. Hermione didn't know when she went from staring aimlessly at the ceiling to shutting her eyes and letting her traitorous mind play out memories that she had no desire to explore, but she had entirely missed the Elf's entrance until she announced her presence. The title of 'Lady' irked Hermione from day one, she felt like an unwanted smudge of dirt on a crisp white shirt among these Elves, yet though she initially protested Hermione gave up when an unspoken compromise arose- they called her Hermione as long as once in a while she was addressed by her supposedly formal title. "You are still abed on this wonderful day, perhaps I can show you around Rivendell."

"I would rather rest a little longer, if that is alright with you." Hermione replied, burrowing deeper into the comfortable mattress, her eyes were sluggish to open as if to prove her point.

"Hermione," Arwen's reply was cautious as Hermione felt the bed dip next to her prone figure which followed by a delicate hand brushing her messy hair from her face. The Elf's next words were just as measured- "It has been several days now, perhaps it is time to move around a little."

"I'm just so tired Arwen," And Hermione wasn't lying as she gazed clearly at her companion, all she wanted to do was turn over and succumb to slumber once more.

"You will not heal if you just lay around Hermione, you will only become more ill. Please, come and take a walk with me around the gardens." Arwen continued to plead with a strained sigh as she gently untangled a few knots in her hair.

"I am feeling fine Arwen, really." Hermione insisted, praying Arwen would just let her sleep, especially since the attention her hair was receiving just had a soporific effect. "Your father did a wonderful job, I really can't thank him enough, I hardly feel any pain at all." Arwen didn't reply instantly, the pause lingered between them as another knot was untangled by skilled hands and Hermione let her eyes shut. Just when Hermione felt her consciousness start slipping again, Arwen sighed as though coming to a conclusion.

"It is not your body we fear for Lady Granger, but your mind." Arwen finally responded barely above a whisper. Her hands left Hermione's hair and instead found purchase in her hands as she squeezed Hermione's much smaller fingers.

This had thoroughly woken Hermione from her sleepy stupor. And while at first she wanted to brush her carers concern away as a misunderstanding, she couldn't. Deep down, far past the tight control she wove around her emotions to stop them from interfering, she knew that they were right. The never ending need to sleep, the quietly humming numbness that was her constant companion of late- behind it she was frightened, she just didn't want to delve into the particulars of it all because she was positive she would hate her revelation.

"Please." Arwen pleaded still, squeezing Hermione's hands harder. Hermione pushed herself up to sit so she could at least look Arwen in the eye. Now that she was upright she could see the sincere worry that emanated from this being that barely knew her. "Please." Arwen whispered again as though some hope was renewed now that Hermione moved, blue eyes, as wise as her fathers, did not waver once.

"You're right." Hermione whispered in turn breaking their gaze, shame heating her cheeks as she admitted something she did not want to put a name to. Arwen immediately lifted Hermione's downcast head by the chin and searched her face for something, whatever the Elf was looking for she must have found as a genuine and relieved smile made her already stunning features glow.

"That is good," Arwen said bringing Hermione closer to envelope her in a hug and whispered again- "That is very good_ ai er." _Hermione was stunned when she felt the Elf's warmth surround her, she hadn't had such close and friendly contact with anyone for so long- she couldn't even remember if the last had been Harry or Ron.

"Thank you." Hermione replied into Arwen's shoulder, squeezing the only source of comfort she had in a very long time.

"And here are the gardens that many people like to come for solace." Arwen steered Hermione to yet another garden in this vast city. In truth the whole city seemed to be one large garden, with garden alcoves dotting the vast greenery and sheltered passage ways that led to even more gardens. Hermione felt so thoroughly lost, if Arwen were to just leave her she was certain she would not be able to find her room.

Hermione couldn't recall her first impression of Rivendell, in fact now that she was coaxed outdoors, she was relatively certain that she hadn't noticed anything about it. Therefore her second impression was all the more overwhelming- how the devil she had missed the magnificence, the natural and structured beauty as it integrated seamlessly together or the sheer glow that was everywhere and nowhere at the same time stumped her. From the gardens as they blended into the buildings to create a seamless unity to the waterfalls that provided a constant stream of sound that created a natural symphony when combined with an array of singing birds, frogs, crickets and probably many other creatures she couldn't see or identify.

Rivendell, like its inhabitants, possessed an effortless and timeless beauty with unique and wonderful structures that seemed ancient as though they have stood the test of time, yet at the same time exhibited a new youthfulness that made it seem to radiate that energy outwards and engulf its occupants. The last time Hermione felt this awed was when she first laid her eyes on Hogwarts as the group of fellow first years bobbed in their lantern lit boats while the giant squid welcomed them. It made Hermione's lips twist into what could be construed as a smile.

"It is good to see you in the sunlight and walking_ ai er_ " It was not Arwen's voice that ended Hermione's trance like observation, instead it was a man that Hermione recalled only seeing once during her stay, and it was very briefly as she shut the door on him and everyone else in the room that day. He was walking up to the pair from around an ancient tree that could have easily hidden five people standing abreast. "Arwen will be most pleased to have lifted your spirits, she has been very worried for you Lady Granger." The mans voice was soft and laced with a very masculine baritone. Hermione observed him from Arwen's side taking his familiarity with the Elf Lord's daughter as a positive sign that she could trust him, or at least not be so highly strung that would have left her even more socially awkward than she ordinarily was.

"Hermione, this is Aragorn," Arwen introduced as the man reached them. Hermione couldn't help eyeing him, he looked like a scruffy man that was dressed in the finery of elves, but there was more to him she could feel. Underneath his slightly unkempt look lay an awareness to his surroundings, if his hands were anything to go by he was strong- could be dangerous. "He was the one who found you on our borders and brought you my farther."

"I'm sorry you had to see that." Hermione mumbled, desperately trying not to remember the state she was in while being carried by this man. "Thank you as well." She remembered herself, it wouldn't do to be rude.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, nor to thank." He replied, his voice not losing any of its softness though his eyes remained searching and Hermione was unable to meet his gaze- she felt that way often lately. Before the silence that fell among them could get uncomfortable the very masculine hand she observed earlier came into her line of sight with a green apple grasped in its fingers. "Lord Elrond says you should eat _ai er." _He explained.

Hermione took the offered fruit from Aragorn with a quiet thank you while Arwen steered her to a near by bench. Just to make the two of them happy, Hermione took a large bite from the apple- she could feel the burst of juice, her taste buds tingled, but it felt like cardboard in her mouth. She didn't let it show though, instead she chewed and swallowed and mustered a smile in gratitude for her audience. Her poor performance must have worked because her two companions turned to each other and started conversing, leaving Hermione to her own devices.

She ate the rest of the apple painfully slow the taste not getting better, ignoring the sharp pains in her stomach that she knew would subside. Not having anything to do and not wanting to disturb Arwen and Aragorn from their softly spoken words, Hermione let her head fall back and felt the sun rays heat her face pleasantly. The numb hum in her head faded slightly as she listened to the sound of nature around her, yet unbidden as though the buzz was keeping it at bay, voices filtered into her head.

"_Well I don't know how to break this to you," said Ron, "but I think they might have noticed we broke into Gringotts." _

She remembered their laughter was so infectious that it was almost hysterical, none more so than Harry.

Hermione's eyes snapped back open to the sight of Rivendell's gardens around her as a gentle hand was laid on her shoulder. The echoes of that laughter still reverberating in her head as the comforting numbness began rolling back in smothering it. She allowed Arwen to lead her away to keep going with their stroll.

And that's what it was like for days that followed. Hermione rose to streaming sunlight, frequently took walks around Rivendell with either Arwen who always spoke or sang during their time together, or Aragorn who was mostly silent, or both companions. The food provided for her was frequent and portions gradually increased till Hermione noticed the positive effect it had on her body. Physically she was growing stronger, her aches and pains were diminishing to nothing and her ability to walk faster and further improved each day. It was the nights that bothered her the most.

When the sun began to sink and Arwen bid her a farewell every night Hermione was left only with her own mind as company, and what poor company it made. While still awake the numb buzz was almost excruciating, but it was worse when she slipped into dreams. Her most common nightmare was Harry- dear Harry as lifeless as every other corpse that littered the lawns of Hogwarts. Yet morning came bright every time to start the cycle again.

Hermione knew she had to snap herself out of it, she just didn't know how with out turning herself into an absolute mess. She had pinpointed her emotions one rainy day though, and it sent a shiver down her spine- she wasn't feeling anything at all and she didn't know how to let go of the iron control she had of herself.

"Father is hosting a feast tonight." Arwen announced the moment Hermione set foot into her room. She just had a pleasant walk around the gardens by herself and though she found the absence of Arwen or Aragorn daunting at first, it turned out to be nice and slightly empowering to be alone after weeks of having a near constant companion.

"What is the occasion?" Hermione asked haltingly as the announcement gave her pause. She desperately hoped it was just Arwen's regular stream of conversation to prevent any silence from lingering.

"It is in honour of the envoys who have gathered here for the great council." The elf replied, while fingering yards of fabric. Hermione didn't ask what the council was about, but she thought it could be about Saruman turning against them, she honestly wanted nothing to do with it. "I have chosen your dress for you and before you argue you must be there to keep me company." She shot down Hermione's protests before the words could even form.

The rest of the day was therefore spent grooming for the evening- Hermione would have much preferred to lose herself in the library that Lord Elrond himself built. Two of Arwen's own handmaidens came to help Hermione wash, dress and fix her hair. What ever her feelings were about all this primping, Hermione couldn't look past the effect of Elven soaps and shampoos. Her skin was the best she had ever seen, no spots, the dark circles under her eyes non-existent and it had smoothed the skin out evenly. But it was her hair that changed the most, the voluminous locks fell down her back in effortless waves and shone with a healthy sheen that, while it didn't come close to an Elf, would have made the models on cover magazines jealous. What ever the Elves used had repaired any and all damage her hair sustained during her year on the run and even its usual unruliness- if only they told her the secret.

Arwen appeared at Hermione's door just as one of the handmaids finished lining her eyes with kohl. "You look uncomfortable." The Elf observed once she dismissed the maids and took position behind Hermione threading jewels through her hair.

"The last time I dressed up this much was over a year ago." Hermione said not seeing any reason to lie, "the party ended when it was ambushed." She could see Arwen's hands pause in the air behind her in the mirror before she lowered them to squeeze Hermione's shoulders. "Besides, it feels odd dressing up so prettily." She confessed.

"Well it suits you Hermione." Arwen declared while pinning a fine chain around Hermione's forehead. Hermione tried to protest again, but Arwen would have none of it, instead she led her to a full length mirror. Once again the only reason Hermione knew it was her was because the reflection moved as she did. The icy blue gown fell around her in a very flattering and feminine way, the long sleeves left her hands free as it contoured to her arm before flaring out underneath into trains trailing on the ground along with the rest of the dress. The material was light and airy and finer than any silk and seemed to shimmer with a silvery sheen from an unseen source. The jewels Arwen adorned her with made Hermione's hair twinkle when the light caught them, and the circlet on her forehead winked in and out of sight with movement it was so fine.

"This is too much." Hermione whispered as her hands barely brushed along the dress, she felt that if she touched it too much she will dirty it. She was not used to such finery, the only time she had ever spent so much time and effort on her appearance had been the Yule Ball and in comparison, those periwinkle robes may as well have been a luxury potato sack. The light hint of blue tones brought out the rich brown in her hair and her rimmed eyes almost looked golden against the black.

"It is just enough _ai er_." The Elf whispered with one last squeeze of her shoulder before ushering Hermione to the door. She supposed when standing next to the tall willowy figure of her flawless companion, Hermione was made up 'just enough'. Arwen was beyond beautiful, Hermione thought, in fact she had never seen anything like it, not in magazines, nor television- absolutely no where. She walked behind the beauty confident that who ever was at this feast all eyes would be on Arwen.

Aragorn met them at the bottom of a stair, he had very obviously cleaned up for the occasion and did so very well. He followed their trek down with eyes only for Arwen, it made Hermione smile slightly seeing it. She noticed very early on in her stay in Rivendell that a quiet affection existed between the two, she never asked either of them, but if the look in the mans eyes was any indication it was a slow burning love that has been there for quite some time. They suited one another, Hermione thought as she saw them standing side by side in all their finery. Arwen was all woman and resplendent in her beauty, and Aragorn, topping her height, looking strong, handsome and the epitome of masculinity.

"Lady Hermione," Aragorn startled her out of the thoughts she lost herself in while the two of them exchanged a few whispered words in elvish. He lifted Hermione's hand and lightly brushed his lips on it before tucking her arm into the crook of his. Arwen was already situated on his other side and he escorted them to the feast.

He led them past a long table that could easily sit fifty people, there were three such tables. Lord Elrond was already seated at the head of the middle table with Gandalf seated to his right in a place of honour. Those were the only other two familiar faces that she could see in the dining hall as the seats on all three tables were almost entirely occupied. When the Lord of Rivendell noticed his daughters entrance he rose from his seat that started a wave going through the occupants who did the same. Hermione felt her face heating up as all voices petered out to watch their journey to join Lord Elrond at his table, she didn't want to see anyone looking directly at her so instead Hermione focused on their destination.

It came as a relief when they reached their seats, even if Hermione was shocked to be placed next to Arwen who was directly to the left of her father. The moment Arwen and Hermione were seated the hall proceeded to do the same and all conversation picked up where it left off. Elves began walking among the tables placing large platters of various salads, fruits, cheeses and breads when Lord Elrond turned his attention to her.

"You are looking marvellous and the picture of health, _ai er._" He said using the moniker that Aragorn first used and had yet to explain, his voice carrying down the table and catching the attention of its occupants. To her mortification he proceeded to introduce her and briefly telling his audience the state she was found in on the borders of Rivendell, thankfully leaving out details of what brought her to that state to begin with.

"You have made a most miraculous recovery Lady Hermione, to your health!" A man said, raising his voice over the din in the hall and raising his cup in a toast. Everyone at the table followed with exclamations of 'Lady Hermione!' and 'To health and recovery!' Hermione would have liked nothing better than to have the floor open up and swallow her whole, it was only on sheer nerve that she remembered to shakily raise her own cup of wine in response. When she glanced at Aragorn to her left he tilted his cup with what could be construed as a sly smirk- the nerve of him enjoying her embarrassment- she mimicked him, but with a glare that only made his smile widen.

Thankfully her social torture didn't last too long, as soon Arwen began pointing out different races and where they hailed from. She mentioned a few names, however Hermione couldn't recall many. The food and wine flowed freely through the night, Lord Elrond and Gandalf sat locked in a serious discussion the whole time, the dwarves laughed boisterously and two hobbits began singing and dancing to a small gathered crowd. Hermione learned they were Merriadoc and Peregrin- Merry and Pippin for short- and were two of the hobbits that Aragorn led safely to Rivendell.

Despite the pleasant atmosphere, Hermione wanted to escape back to the confines of her room. This was the most amount of people she had been in close contact with since Bill and Fleur's wedding that marked the beginning of hers, Harry's and Ron's life on the run. Even though Arwen and Aragorn tried to keep her entertained, Hermione couldn't help noticing a pair of eyes watching her from every which direction. Her rational part knew they were nothing more than passing curious glances that she herself bestowed on others, yet her hyper aware side searched for every available exit out of the hall and the best ways to get there.

"I know what it is you're doing." Aragorn's now familiar voice breathed into her ear. She tried to look innocent and perplexed, but one look at him and she knew he wasn't buying it. Hermione was fast learning that this man did not miss much, even when it seemed he wasn't paying attention. "No harm will come to you here." He said earnestly.

"I know that, I really do." Hermione replied, "I haven't been around this many people for a while, it's just- it will pass." She really wanted to say that all those eyes made her skin crawl, that with this many people it made any escape hard in the event of an attack. But she had been receiving enough pitying looks from her companions to be adding to their worries. She also hoped that the feeling would really pass.

Whether he believed her or not, Aragorn let the matter rest and rose to ask Arwen for a dance. Hermione watched them move across the floor with a grace she never witnessed and with a quick glance around noticed that she wasn't the only one who thought so. The Hobbits sat with mouths agape and Men watching with interest, some even worked up the courage to ask the Eleven maids to dance which all accepted with grace.

It made Hermione feel rather wistful, but she did not want to dwell on memories that sent her numbed emotions stirring. Instead she watched as couples changed between each other, one lucky man found himself with Arwen and lost all his footing much to his embarrassment. Hermione hoped her cold demeanour and her refusal to catch anyones eye would deter anyone from asking her for a dance, and she felt she was doing well until a shadow fell upon the table in front of her.

"No." She stated simply with one short glance at her would be partner.

"I haven't even asked _ai er_". Aragorn's light chuckle replied.

"Then I have saved you a pointless request." Her answer came with out a glance this time, but she was sightlessly looking at the dancers now as her attention was focused on the man behind.

"You wouldn't really leave me standing here like this, would you?" He murmured in her ear so the other occupants wouldn't hear.

"Yes I would." She had meant it to sound nonchalant, but the corner of her mouth pulled up, and it bled into her voice.

"One dance _ai er_, and Arwen and I will escort you back to your room ourselves." Hermione's self satisfied smirk dropped instantly and she whipped around to face him.

"Now you're just being cruel." She said, starring daggers at him. Much to her chagrin, he seemed to have adopted the very same smirk she was sporting not a moment ago. His hand was steadily and calmly held out before her to take- _the nerve of him assuming I will take it_- yet Hermione wanted nothing more then to petulantly cross her arms, turn back around and for good measure stick her tongue out at him. It was her reasonable side that placed her hand into his and stood up as gracefully as she could after sitting for so long, but before she let him lead her out she pulled him close enough to whisper.

"_One_ dance-" Hermione stressed- "and then I'm leaving with or with out you two schemers." Aragorn merely nodded and chuckled as he led her through the tables to the space that was designated to dancing. Hermione refused to look at the people sitting, she didn't want to to catch anyone looking at her even if it was only cursory. The dance floor didn't make her feel any more relaxed, but it eased as Aragorn started moving them around it.

"I don't know what you feared my lady," Aragorn spoke up after while, "you dance wonderfully."

"I'm no Elf, next to them I might as well be doing a gangly two step." Hermione replied, watching as other dancers glided past them. "One Elf has more grace in the tip of one pinky then I could ever hope to hold in my whole being- it's rather intimidating."

"I'm no Elf either _ai er_." Aragorn replied with barely a chuckle as he moved them through the others almost effortlessly.

"No you're not." Hermione agreed, "but you are not normal either. You are something different."

"You are something different too, are you not?" Was Aragorn's only response which made Hermione smile and nod. This was the longest conversation she ever had with the man and it was surprisingly easy to speak with him. "There are many that are watching, you will receive many requests tonight for a dance."

"You said one!" Hermione instantly protested at his suggestion as she scanned the occupants and found he was teasing. "Besides, they are watching, they're just not watching me," she decided to tease back. "They are watching Arwen and you know it, and there is a little green beast deep down inside you that is raring to come out at their audacity for looking at someone that is yours."

"You're too smart for your own good." Was Aragorn's only response as a slight frown appeared on his face. Hermione feared she had gone too far, it wouldn't be the first time she let her mouth run away before her brain caught up.

"An insufferable know-it-all actually." She mumbled to his chest in shame. The laugh that rumbled between them had Hermione glancing up again and witnessing the man throwing his head back in laughter much to her relief.

Hermione let the seamless melody of the Elves fill the silence that grew between them and trusted Aragorn enough to shut her eyes and let him lead them on. Like everything else Elven, the tune that drifted through the room was neither too soft nor too loud, or too fast or slow and changed from one melody to another. Hermione felt herself relax slightly and let the atmosphere take over.

_'Hey, little train! Wait for me!"_

"What!" Hermione yelped as her eyes snapped open, she would have stumbled if it wasn't for Aragorn's quick reflexes. He had asked her if something was the matter, but Hermione denied it as the melody remained unchanged through the room and shook it off. However she wasn't as relaxed anymore, she could pick that song anywhere and it sent a shiver down her spine.

She shut her eyes tight to remove the memory of that night as Aragorn kept swaying them on the floor, but when she opened them she was in a tent- with a green eyed, messy haired boy awkwardly swaying them in the confide space.

_'Hey, little train! Wait for me!"_

_The train that goes to the Kingdom'_

She squeezed her eyes tighter trying to drown out that mournful song, but the scene remained unchanged. The awkward swinging of the boy, in the unmistakable old tent that had been their home for the past year, and that song that will forever be burned into her mind.

Hermione didn't gasp, she didn't stumble- all she did was glasses, the terrible hand-me-downs and the shock of black unruly hair. "Harry,"she barely whispered as her throat constricted. She grasped the hand in hers harder to make sure it was really there. He was, those lifeless eyes she saw last were looking straight at her full of compassion and understanding- they weren't glassy and soulless as when Hagrid carried his lifeless body. "Please tell me this isn't a dream Harry." Hermione brokenly choked out as that constricting pain was engulfing her chest.

"Who is Harry?"

Hermione gasped and did stumble. Gone was the dilapidated tent, and gone was the awkward boy- in place was a lavish and spacious room and in place of the boy was a confident man with stormy blue eyes that was holding her to him as he stopped her fall. He was asking her something, or at least speaking to her, Hermione couldn't hear what it was as a numbing ring filled her ears with faint hints of a tune she wouldn't ever forget.

_'We're happy, Ma, we're having fun'_

"I need to get out of here- _please_!" Hermione heard herself say, but whether she was leaving on her own steam or with someones help, she couldn't tell. She wasn't watching where she was going or if anyone was with her because all Hermione heard and focused on was _that_ _song._

_'Hey, little train! Wait for me!"_

_The train that goes to the Kingdom'_

"Please make it stop." Hermione heard herself say. She wasn't able to walk any further and dropped to her knees where she stood, the restricting pain that first started in her throat and that spread into her chest grew to unbearable proportions. It felt like fire and ice warring with one another as a third and fourth force tried to smother and scratch both of them out together. It fleetingly passed through her mind that her soul might be tearing and she wondered how Voldemort managed it seven times. Hermione wanted to wrap her arms around herself to hold herself together, but that song was torturing her more so her hands covered her ears instead.

_'We're happy, Ma, we're having fun'_

"What did you want stopped?" Arwen's voiced filtered through her hands and the never ceasing song as the Elf's arms encircled Hermione.

"That song," Hermione croaked out and gave up trying to block it out with her hands.

"You need to feel _ai er._" Aragorn whispered from her other side as his arms joined Arwen's.

_'Hey, little train! Wait for me!"_

"I don't want to feel!" Hermione rounded on him, hands dropping from her head, she wanted to shout, but for all her effort only a sharp, cracked whisper escaped. "It- _hurts._"

_'The train that goes to the Kingdom'_

And the pain only got worse. Hermione tried to stem the flow of emotions that was roiling inside her, she tried to beat it all back into the numbness she had been feeling to date, but it was impossible- _that_ song wasn't letting her. She tried helping herself by squeezing her arms around her body tighter. Her magic tingled under her skin that felt like an electrical current waiting to explode. Hermione took a deep laboured breath in, held herself tight and tried holding everything in.

_'We're happy, Ma, we're having fun'_

She couldn't.

Her jaw nearly unhinged in its effort to open her mouth wide enough for a scream that never came- the deep breath she took in before, escaped soundlessly through her constricted throat. It was Hermione's magic that screamed for her as it rushed out of her in an unearthly wail through their surroundings. Ever present were two sets of arms that only held on tighter as wave after wave of raw magic flowed out and the soundless scream continued.

Then there was utter silence.

Hermione managed to breathe in again before she realised that through the silence there wasn't even _that_ song- there was nothing.

The first tear she didn't feel till it hit her arm- several more fell the same way before she realised she was crying. And long before Hermione knew what was happening the silent tears dissolved into silent, gut wrenching sobs that she didn't care to stop between a whispered and broken mantra of "we lost" and "he's dead".

**A/N:** I'm done! Bloody hell this chapter took FOREVER! Writing the last part was emotional and I hate that I don't think it has come across as what I had in my head, but I just don't know what to change or how. On that note, one of the hardest parts is over…I think. On another note, I need to seriously apologise to readers and most especially reviewers for the lengthy delay, it is a poor thank you for all the wonderful words you all wrote…I am absolutely STUNNED beyond words at the response. Having said that, I feel the pressure is on to deliver. Yikes. I feel like I'm going to disappoint somehow.

I have also seen many suggestions for pairings, thank you all for your thoughts. I'm still uncertain, but a romance will be long in coming anyway, so a pairing might just form with out my consent.

There have also been a few recurring questions, I can only promise that all will be revealed.

I'm trying to get things moving along, I want to show a passage of time, but at the same time not linger on in one sort of mindset.

Anyways enough from me, I hope everyone enjoyed this, I hope I don't disappoint. Until next time!

Oh, and apologies for any typos and grammatical errors, I have read this chapter to death.

Please leave a review, all but flames are welcome.

**Special Thanks to Reviewers**

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